Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave
Irreverent.
Those sweet excesses that
I do adore.
What surety is there
That we will meet again,
On other worlds some
Future time undated.
I defy my body's haste.
Without the promise
Of one more sweet encounter
I will not deign to die.
-Maya Angelou, Refusal

Chapter 4:
A Rhapsody of Reconnection

"Your grades will be posted to the network portal in approximately a week. In the meantime, enjoy your summer vacation."

A cheer erupted through the class; my students were liberated.

Freedom.

I quickly stowed my lesson planner and exited the room, beginning the long trek back to the staff office. It had been the final exam of the summer term; the students now began their month and change off. They could go off and do whatever they wanted.

They were unrestrained.

Unfortunately, we teachers weren't so lucky.

The long process of marking loomed before me; gaseous, it filled the space allotted to it, ever-expanding and omnipresent. Soon, it would envelop every aspect of my life; suffocating, drowning me in its tight embrace, unable to breath. A weight pressing down on my chest, driving all the air from my lungs.

Sighing as I sat back down at my desk, I pulled the gigantic pile of exams closer to me. Every single class I taught had written a final for me, each with between twenty and thirty students.

It had long been my least favourite part of being a teacher. Something I'd paid little mind to as a student, striving to succeed on midterms and finals and quizzes and every other assessment in between - the human aspect. The teacher on the other end of the red pen, holding an entire person's fate in their hands; capable of desolation with a single word.

It was a heavy burden to bear.

Part of it was the discomfort that came along with the fact that, with a stroke of ink, I could drastically affect how these students' summers went. Part of it was the knowledge that some of them took it as an evaluation of their entire worth, a reflection of their value as a human being. It was a reality that made me reluctant; because I also couldn't mark too high, and let someone pass who hadn't actually learned anything.

Those were all true reasons for my dislike of marking.

They just weren't the reason.

It was the tedium.

Within about ten minutes, I was sprawled out on the desk, red pen in hand, and sighing dejectedly. The oncoming week was going to be extremely slow, and painful. Turning my head to look at the large window that lined the wall, I allowed my mind to slowly wander. To step away from pages upon pages upon pages of equations and reactions and mind-numbing tedium.

It had been about three weeks since we'd returned from Okinawa.

Three weeks since the izakaya.

Three weeks since you'd admitted you missed me.

The morning after had been not so much a return to normalcy, as a state of metastability; your eyes averted, words halting. The ice in your eyes was still remarkable in its absence... but you were distant.

Frustratingly far away.

Oblique, uncomfortable, we had danced around one another, never quite meeting head-on - and two weeks after we'd returned, finals had begun, and we were each consumed.

Tests. Rubrics. Evaluation sheets, normalization, curving.

Even if we'd been free, there was no time. You were nothing more than a distant sight; to be seen, but never touched.

And when I did catch your eye, you were guarded. Portcullis lowered, drawbridge raised. Even devoid of ice, there was no entry to one such as me.

Yet, in the gaps between the metal bars, there was one thing that was clear.

Regret.

Though, whether it was for baring your soul, or for not baring it enough, I couldn't say.

The wariness in your eyes would indicate the former.

Dropping my pen in frustration, I sighed, and lifted my head. Getting up from my chair with a soft groan, I walked over to the coffee machine, inserted my change, and watched as the golden-brown liquid was ejected into a cup. In a way, it was mesmerizing as it fell into the midnight-black travel mug. I'd switched over to a reusable cup following the trip to Okinawa, grabbing a souvenir in the airport on the way back. It was more environmentally friendly, even if I didn't actually save any money by doing so.

Pouring in milk and sugar with hands that moved without thinking, I stirred, and then returned to my desk. The procedure was practically automatic at that point.

It's going to be a long night...

At that moment, the door to the staff room had quietly slid open, and you had walked in, messenger bag over your shoulder. The shadows under your eyes had long-since returned, the temporary rejuvenating effects of the school trip blown away in a matter of days. Slipping into your desk, you had lowered your head into your arms, a sigh barely audible from my position across the room.

Eventually, after a long moment of stillness, you looked up, and our eyes met.

There was a look in your eye that I wasn't sure I understood. Not ice. Something far more permeable, yet not translucent; a wariness, a guardedness that gnawed at the edges of my heart, gently causing it to ache at the sight.

Yet, as we held each other's gaze, there was a moment of hesitation... and then you nodded your head to me in greeting.

It's not much... but it also isn't nothing.

I nodded back, and then turned back to my work.

There was no time to be engaging in idle conversation anyways. I only had a week to get through all of this - and I couldn't sacrifice quality for speed. I owed it to the students to give it my all, and face their efforts honestly. They had tried their best (or at least, most of them had...), and so I also had to put in the utmost effort.

I couldn't be distracted.

Even though every ounce of my body wanted to turn back around to look at you. To greedily drink in your face, your eyes, your will. To puzzle over the mystery that was your soul.

But... I had higher obligations.

I slogged through question after question after question - patterns emerging, yet needing to be addressed individually every time. The same sticking point. The same small blunder. The same factor-of-two error. It added up. Every mistake a student made was unique, special- and I'd seen it a dozen times before.

The minutiae ate up the minutes, and meticulous marking made for mundanity. Eventually, I glanced up at the clock, and saw that two hours had already been devoured. Looking over at the pile, I sighed in soft frustration. I'd hardly made a dent, let alone significant progress.

This is going to take forever.

Pulling my laptop out, I booted up the software we'd been mandated to use for tracking and distributing evaluations - a programme which has only been implemented a year before. Diligently entering the grades for the exams I'd already finished marking, I saved them to a draft, and then moved the marked exam into a "completed" folder in my desk. Shoving the rest away, I stretched, and looked back up at the clock.

Six o'clock... time to go home, I suppose.

I rose wearily, the stiffness in my shoulders from hunching over a desk already beginning to make its presence known. It would only get worse as the week went on. Grabbing my bag, I began to head for the door - but there was something that stopped me as I reached to slide it open. Some whispered voice, echoing forth like a faint ripple over the surface of the pond in my mind.

Hand hovering near the handle, I turned to look back into the room.

You were still hunched over the desk, fingers run through your hair, motionless.

It was already too much. I remembered how it was, my first year - the tidal wave of work that came with the first set of finals. The feeling of helplessness, how overwhelming it had been. Slowly lowering my hand, I began to walk back towards my desk; hesitating, uncertain.

One step at a time.

I wasn't sure. I didn't know if you wanted me to reach out. If you would allow me in. If my outstretched hand would be slapped away. Another rejection. Another moment watching you walk away into the figurative rain, useless umbrella extended helplessly towards your retreating back.

If a single misstep would bring back the ice.

Yet... I had reached my limit. Three weeks of glancing blows, never quite touching, never quite making contact. I was restless. I was nervous.

I wanted to take that step.

I opened my mouth, and even as a wave of anxiety swept over me, I spoke.

"Uesugi-sensei?"

You jerked, and then slowly lifted your head to look at me, blinking. Suddenly, you were on guard, eyes narrowing slightly.

"...Yes?"

I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Now that I was here, I wasn't entirely sure that I was brave enough to continue.

Suddenly, your words from the Izakaya flooded to the forefront of my mind.

I miss you.

A step forward.

"I'm about to head out, and get dinner," I said awkwardly. "...Would you care to join me?"

I saw a flurry of different emotions cross your face, all too quickly to identify. Eventually, you settled back onto a neutral, guarded look... and then you turned to look at your pile of papers left to mark.

A weighing of the scales.

A decision.

After a moment, biting your lip, you turned back to me.

"Where did you have in mind?"

I didn't.

Trying to suppress the panic that was suddenly rising in my chest, I hastily ran through a mental list of the food options near the school, and then finally settled on a restaurant. "There's an Italian place a few blocks away named La Piazza Genovese. I go there after work sometimes if I can't wait to get home before having dinner."

A pensive look crossed your face... and then with another look back at your work, you nodded.

"Well, you did always have the best taste in restaurants," you murmured to yourself. "Ah... give me a few minutes to wrap up this exam, if that's ok, and then I'll join you."

A flood of relief burst through my veins... followed almost immediately thereafter by anxiety, creeping its way up my spine, claws digging in as it perched on my shoulder.

He... he said yes?!

Quietly shellshocked, I simply nodded, and put my bag down. Settling back in my desk chair, I watched as you turned back to the exam you'd been marking. After a few moments of drinking in the sight of your face from the side, consumed in concentration, I pulled out my phone, and bided my time by doing the electronic French flashcards contained therein.

Les pâtes. Épicée. Doux. Tasse.

A pen, scratching against paper. The ticking sound of the clock.

J'ai faim.

Eventually, I heard a sigh from you, and looked up to see that you had put down your pen, and were stretching.

"Done. Let's go."

I frowned. "Don't you need to input the marks?"

You paused, and looked back at the exams. Then, you shook your head. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Rookie mistake. Ah well, he needs to make those...

Shrugging, I got up, and threw my bag back over my shoulder. You grabbed your carrier bag in turn, and we walked out of the school office together. The atmosphere was awkward, as though there were a magnetic force between us; but, misaligned - a repelling push, driving us apart. It was as though each oblique encounter we'd had served only to add a small helping of tension; and yet, the effect was cumulative.

I couldn't look at you.

As we walked down the hall together, passing the windows in the bridge looking out over the few remaining students playing soccer out on the field, there was a silence between us - unbreakable, yet fragile. Impregnable, yet permeable. A superposition of two things, not quite settled into either state. I wasn't sure what to think. I wasn't sure how to feel.

Regardless of what it was, the one to shatter the silence first was you.

"So," you asked tentatively, the hesitancy apparent in your stumbling words. "um... what... what were you doing on your phone? You seemed very... focused."

I could suddenly feel my face heat up; you'd been watching me. No matter how small, it was a new sensation - to have our roles reversed, to be under the scrutiny of an inquiring eye.

Glancing aside, I nervously laughed.

"Ah... I've... I've been learning French," I stuttered, not making eye-contact. "I got interested a while ago after I visited Ichika in Paris."

"Ichika is in Paris?"

I glanced over at you. There was a look, possibly of confusion, on your face; a furrowed brow, downturned lips, drawn eyes. You weren't quite looking at me, your eyes cast down to the floor as we walked. It was difficult to read what you were thinking - your face was a mask, keeping your true emotions within.

Or... maybe I just don't want to see.

"She was- but, not anymore. She was just there for a promotional tour, and she flew us all out."

Descending down the stairs, we changed our footwear, and then stepped out the front door of the school. The sky was still a bright blue, sunset hours away in the bright fervour of the July sun. Subtly, our positioning shifted, with my taking the lead and you falling a half-step behind to follow as we walked down the pavement..

"I see," you said quietly. "She really did make it big, huh?"

Frowning at your tone, I glanced back at you again. The look on your face was complicated; a hint of wistfulness. A note of pride.

A drop of pain.

"I... yes. Yes, she did. Actually, she just got cast in an A-list superhero movie a short while ago; I'd say it's her big break, but to be honest... it's not. It's just another role for her." I said, turning forward.

I don't like seeing him hurting. But...

"I see..."

I can't just ignore everything that's happened. Not if I want him to let me in.

Another few steps. Left. Half a block down the concrete. Across the street at the crosswalk. Another half-block. Right. Three buildings down.

"So," I said as I leaned against the door to the restaurant, pushing it open, "after I visited her in Paris, I fell in love with the language. I learned a few basics while I was there, but when I got back home, I decided to learn it for real. I'm... still not very skilled, though."

"I see. That's pretty admirable - I just focused on English," you murmured, following me in. "I would like to try picking up a third language eventually, but..."

You trailed off as the server came to seat us. I had asked for a seat at the bar, which was my normal place to sit, and we were soon shown over to our spot. Settling onto the barstool seat, my bag down by my feet, you pulled in next to me, and leaned on the counter to look at me.

"I'm a bit of a perfectionist," you continued, frowning slightly - biting your lip, a furrowing of the brow. Subtle signs of frustration. "It's... hard to move on. Starting a new language when I don't feel like I have a perfect grasp of the previous one... it doesn't feel like something I can do - and having a perfect gasp of a language is impossible."

"That's true," I nodded. "I guess... I guess that hasn't changed."

You looked at me, golden eyes locked onto my own- and then, lightly, you laughed.

A beautiful thing, effulgent, like dappled light shining brightly through the many planes and curves of a crystal goblet - quietly serene, radiant, a thing to be silently admired.

Hearing it, even just for a moment, made my chest constrict - but not in pain.

Relief.

"Yeah, of course," you chuckled. "I was always like that in high school, wasn't I? Anything less than a perfect score was failure."

"Yes," I smiled softly. "I remember that you were devastated when you got third on the national mock exams instead of first. Absolutely inconsolable."

You scowled, though your eyes betrayed your quiet mirth. "If I hadn't gotten sick, I would have made it!"

I smiled. "I know. You worked so hard for our sakes."

There was suddenly an uncomfortable silence; the weight of my words slowly sank in, and the history between us, the ten intervening years, came rushing back. Our eyes met just for a moment - and for just a moment, I thought I saw it again. The glitter of hoarfrost, the sheen of ice. Then, you blinked, and it was gone, leaving behind merely a guarded look.

Awkwardly, you looked away without responding, and I could feel a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach.

What have I done? I screwed up, I shouldn't have said that, I... I...

I wanted to follow up with something- anything. Anything that would reclaim the barest hint of reconnection, that would bring you back out from behind those fortifications in your eyes. Anything that would let me in.

"Uesugi-sensei, I-"

"How are they doing?" you asked softly, turning back to me, inadvertently cutting across me. "Your sisters, I mean."

I blinked, caught off guard. Then, I slowly smiled, the sudden edifice of panic that had constructed itself in my chest collapsing as quickly as it had been built. In its place was another surge of relief.

"They're doing well," I murmured, grateful for the lifeline. "All of them. Miku and Nino eventually put together the funds to open up a café."

"I see," you said, fingers drumming on the glass of water that had been placed in front of you. There was a tenseness to your posture - my eyes traced down to your hands, drawn in by their motion. The nervous energy contained within. Returning to your face, I could see the corners of your mouth pulled, the skin ever so slightly taut.

There's a question behind the question...

Quietly, I shook my head to myself.

You're overthinking this.

"Well," I continued, "I say it's a café, but it's a bit odd - it's a café in the morning, and then a restaurant after four o'clock. That was the deal they struck; Miku makes the pastries, and Nino makes the full meals. It's gotten quite popular, actually. I think they won some sort of local award about a year ago."

You frowned, tilting your head inquisitively. "That's... certainly interesting. Have I heard of this café-slash-restaurant?"

"Maybe?" I mused. "It's called Bistro 23. You can probably piece together where the name came from."

You laughed quietly again, that same beautiful sound, an ephemeral thing lasting just a moment. "Yep, that name makes sense. I haven't heard of it... but, knowing them, I'm sure it's great."

Knowing them...

I nodded. "It's pretty good. Miku's an honest-to-god pâtissière now, and Nino's always been a fantastic chef - she's only gotten better."

"...Maybe I'll go visit at some point."

For a moment, my heart caught in my chest - and I had to fight to stop my eyes widening.

He's probably just saying that to be polite. It... it's probably too early. Don't read too much into it, Itsuki.

Don't get ahead of yourself.

"I'm sure they would love that," I said, forcing myself to gently smile.

We were interrupted by the server coming to take our orders. I picked a lovely fettuccine alfredo ai funghi, my go-to meal at La Piazza Genovese, along with a glass of wine. As you were scanning the menu, I saw you wince slightly at the price - and I waved my hand dismissively at you.

"Order whatever you like," I said. "I'll cover."

Your eyes widened. "Are you sure? This is... quite pricey."

"I invited you, I'll pay," I said confidently. "Consider it my treat."

You gazed at me silently for a long moment, unsure. There was a quietly suspicious look in your eyes... but eventually, it softened, and you nodded. The waiter was hovering behind us, pen and paper in hand - and so you looked down at the menu again, eyes slightly narrowed. Taking another second to browse, you ordered the salmon and a white wine. As the server took the menus away, your gaze returned to me.

"So... please continue," you murmured.

"Right... as for Ichika," I said, tapping on the table, an external reflection of my internal nerves, "she got bigger and bigger parts, until eventually, about three years after we graduated high school, she got a leading antagonist role in a Korean indie film that ended up being aired at TIFF, and-"

You frowned. "Sorry, what's TIFF?"

I froze, and then internally winced.

Ahhhh- why the heck would he know what TIFF is?! He hasn't spent the last decade listening to Ichika talk about the film industry. Idiot. The last thing you need is for him to think you're looking down on him; of all people, you-

You were just looking inquisitively. There was no anger on your face; at least, none that I could see.

Overthinking. Yet again.

"Sorry," I said, shaking myself. "That was rude of me. It's the Toronto International Film Festival; it's a film festival held in Canada every fall. It's apparently a really big deal, at least according to Ichika. She didn't get to go to the festival, but apparently some producers who were at the festival saw the movie, and offered her a role in another indie film - but in America. So, she moved overseas, and has lived there ever since. We've been over to see her a number of times."

"I see," you said, taking a sip of the glass of water that had been the subject of your repeated attacks. "I'm glad. Good for her- she became an excellent liar."

"A liar...?" I asked, a sudden feeling of consternation rearing its head in my chest.

"Nevermind," you said, shaking your head. "Forget about it. Inside joke we had."

"Oh... right."

...How did I not know about that?

There was a quiet sadness in the way you were looking down at the glass; a bittersweetness that hurt my heart. Deep in the pit of my stomach, I could feel a churning ball of something, clinging to the sides. It whispered to me - demanding I reach out to you. Comfort you. Whisper in your ear that you didn't need to have such a painful look on your face.

You don't get to do that. You don't get to be that for him.

"As for Yotsuba..."

I trailed off. Somehow, talking about Yotsuba to you was... hard. I'd known the bond you two had shared in high school, starting from that first day when she'd been the only one to support you... and something within me rebelled at the idea of it being reignited. At the prospect of the dying embers of what had once been to flare forth once again... even if I knew that wasn't possible.

Maybe it was just base jealousy.

I had no idea.

"I know she got that scholarship to a school somewhere in America," you prompted, frowning. "I... lost track of her after that."

"Right," I said, sighing.

As expected, I wouldn't be able to avoid talking about it.

"She got a scholarship abroad, at the University of Oregon, for their track team. After she moved away, she shot up the rankings pretty quickly - I think the phrase some people in the media were using was 'meteoric ascent'. Eventually, she even got to the Olympics representing Japan. Twice, so far. She didn't manage to medal, but we were still proud of her for making it at all."

"I see," you said quietly. "I'm glad."

At that moment, our orders arrived - glasses of wine and food the both. Looking into my glass, swirling it, I wondered if I ought to bring up the other major milestone in my sister's life.

I took a sip of the wine.

You're just scared. Coward.

Sighing, I took another sip.

"She's probably in her prime right now," I murmured. "I don't... I don't know a lot about sports, but I think she's challenging for some records, at least in Japan - she moved back after she graduated, and lives in Tokyo now. She's gone on leave twice in the last few years though, and I think that might have damaged her chances, at least a little bit. She wasn't selected for the Olympics this summer."

"Went on leave, huh?" you asked, sipping your own glass.

"Yes... she's on forced medical leave right now because she sprained her ankle during Olympic qualifiers. She's just now starting to get back onto the track. She was really bored, and upset, and so my phone got blown up a lot."

"That... definitely sounds like her," you chuckled softly.

"Right?"

"I'm sure she was heart-broken, though," you said, an empathetic tone creeping into your voice. "Not getting to go because of an injury... I know I'd be devastated."

"She was."

There was a quiet moment between us, both reflecting - though whether we were both reflecting on the same thing, I couldn't know. I had no way to peer into the realm of your mind, to read the thoughts racing therein. All I could divine were the images I imagined I saw in your eyes, projections of my own emotions onto the golden depths of your soul.

"...And the other one?"

My breath caught in my throat at your prompting. I wasn't even sure why I was so reticent - she was married, and in Tokyo, and a decade removed from your life. There was no reason to hesitate.

No... no, there was a reason.

I was afraid.

I was scared of your reaction.

"She took time off to get married."

I wasn't looking at you; instead, I was looking at the bottom of my wine glass, watching the pale golden liquid swirl and dance, intricate patterns and geometries mostly concealed by the opacity of the fluid itself. The light reflecting off it, internally bounding and prancing and going everywhere.

It was a distraction.

It meant I wasn't looking at you. It meant I didn't have to see the depth of your hurt, or the breadth of your ambivalence. I didn't know which I would find. I didn't want to know which I would find. I was terrified of looking over and seeing a resurgence in your suffering. I was equally terrified of looking over and seeing a wall of ice.

There was a moment's silence from you... and then a quiet noise.

I looked.

You were sipping on your wine glass, a pensive look on your lips.

"I'm happy for her," you said eventually. I looked over your face, searching for a trace of a lie, a wisp of disappointment.

There were elements of both - but if anything, it was a mournful look. I would have given anything, in that moment, to have known what you were thinking. What regrets, if any, were coursing through your veins. Not for the first time, I wondered about your life in the ten years that had passed. What love you'd experienced.

What losses.

I threaded my fork through my pasta, curling the strands through its tongs. Blowing gently on the steaming noodles, I eventually brought them into my mouth, allowing the flavours to flow over my tongue. This dish was deservedly my favourite - yet on that evening, it tasted dull, and unflavoured.

My mind wasn't focused on the food in front of me.

My eyes kept darting back to you.

You cut your salmon, and took a bite... but there was an unreadable look on your face. Furrowed brow, strained lips. Narrowed eyes. It was as though there were an emotional hurricane raging inside your head, a storm of feelings that were, in their entirety, internal - only the barest of hints as to your true thoughts emerged onto your face. Instead, I was pathetically reliant on the words that didn't deign to come out of your mouth.

I want to know what you're feeling. I want to know what's in your heart.

I want you to let me in.

The conversation died as we both ate our food.

This isn't what I want. This... this hurts. I don't want this.

It was too much. I couldn't bear the discomfort, the awkward silence - the wariness, the arm's length with which I could sense you were still holding me. Turning to you, I leaned on one arm, trying for all the world to appear as if I were unbothered, as though it were merely a casual question.

I need to do something.

"So," I asked, a bright note that I didn't feel illuminating my voice, "how's Raiha-chan? I've actually briefly run into her a few times over the last few months."

You swallowed a bite of salmon, and smiled - it was clear that, as ever, you had a soft spot for your kid sister.

"Raiha?" you said, radiating pride. "She's doing great. Actually, she got accepted to Meidai on a full-ride scholarship out of high school, and she's in her third year now studying economics. I'm not totally sure, but I think she's considering opening up her own business after she graduates - she wouldn't tell me, something about it being a surprise."

"That does explain the Nagoya University bottle she had when I saw her," I nodded.

Your brow furrowed. "Where did you see her?"

"At my local gym. I guess we must both go there."

An irritated scowl crossed your face. "She's what?! That's- I don't know why she isn't using the university gym. It's much cheaper - honestly. She's supposed to be studying economics."

I couldn't help but laugh at that - at the look of sheer indignation on your face. "There's more that goes into a cost-benefit analysis than just money, you know."

You rolled your eyes, the frustration fading slightly as you did so. "That's true, but money is important too - especially since she's living on her own now. She moved out of my apartment shortly before I got the teaching job."

Moved out of-?!

I didn't show it, but every muscle in my body froze - with your casual words, a crack had suddenly appeared in your armour, a sliver of light shining through from within. I could sense it. An opportunity to get more information, information about something that had been plaguing me for literally months at this point.

But... once again, I wasn't sure I was brave enough to take the plunge.

I went for another sip of my wine.

There was no more wine.

I ordered another.

Raiha moved out of their apartment? Then... then that means...

It arrived in short order, and I took a deep swig of liquid courage. Then, turning back to you, I smiled.

"It must be nice having the space to yourself, right?"

A probe. To confirm whether or not you really were living alone.

"True," you nodded obliviously, finishing off your own wine. "That said, it gets a bit lonely at times. I'm so used to having Raiha around that it feels wrong to have an empty apartment."

Success.

"I definitely feel you on that," I sighed, taking another sip, trying desperately to contain the smile that was threatening to break out onto my face. "When you grow up with four sisters... living on your own is especially lonely, even if I have been doing it for years at this point."

I saw you put the glass down, and take another bite of the salmon. You weren't directly looking at me - but I thought I could see a sudden tension strung throughout your body. I wasn't sure why, though - I didn't think I'd said anything particularly untoward, anything to cause you to suddenly go rigid and not meet my eye.

Looking back down at my half-finished pasta, I took another bite.

"When did you move out of that apartment?" you asked, a nonchalant tone entering your voice.

...Suspicious.

"When I got this job. Miku and Nino are still living there, but it was extremely inconvenient for getting to work, as you can imagine. I wasn't going to commute all the way up from Tokai every single day - so, I moved out."

"I see," you said quietly, looking down at what was left of your food: mostly the accoutrements with which it had come, capers and other add-ons. I still had a bit of headway to make on my own dish, something which surprised even me.

A certain sign of my distraction.

Taking another big bite of my pasta, the silence stretched again... but it felt less awkward, and more... tense. As though we both had things we wanted to ask, wanted to probe... but couldn't bring ourselves to directly address.

Or, maybe it was all in my head.

Eventually, the server came around to collect our plates, and I asked him to bring us the bill. Glancing over it, I internally winced - while I was certain I was more well-off than you, my impulsiveness was certainly having an adverse effect on my purse. Finishing my drink, I slid down off the barstool, wobbling slightly. It had only been two glasses of wine, along with food. I definitely wasn't anything more than mildly tipsy.

It wasn't the drink.

It was the nerves.

Probably.

"We should probably head out," I said, glancing over at you as I grabbed my things. Nodding, you also slid down, and grabbed your messenger bag. Exiting the restaurant after paying, the sun was setting in the sky, yet still entirely visible amidst the fading blue; the length of a summer's day granting entirely the wrong mood.

We both stood there awkwardly for a moment, not quite making eye contact. Yet, I could see it, in the oblique contact, in the furrow of your brow. You were still wary. You were still holding me at arm's reach.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other - and then, suddenly, you turned to face me, and bowed your head.

"Thanks for the meal, Itsuk- um... Nakano-sensei. It was delicious."

My breath caught in my throat as you held yourself back, as you corrected yourself. As you denied, in your own small way, the connection that had once stood between us. The past that had tied us together, in a way that I'd once thought was eternal.

I could feel my chest tightening. It took all of my efforts, all of my determination, to keep the tears from welling in my eyes.

He can't even bring himself to say my name.

I swallowed.

It hurts.

I don't want this.

Eyes burning, I looked away.

I don't want this denial. I don't want to be held at arm's length, to be forced away, to be stuck at a distance. I want in. I want to know you. I want to feel your pain. I want to share your thoughts. I want to laugh with you. I want-

Enough.

I turned back to you, my shoulders trembling against my will.

No more...

"Please," I whispered. "I... I don't want to be Nakano-sensei. Not to you. Not anymore."

I swallowed.

"Call me Itsuki again."

As I spoke, quiet words on an empty street, myriad emotions seemed to cross your face - conflict, fear. A hint of longing; or maybe that was just my own delusion. I shivered, anxious claws digging into my stomach. I could almost feel the ice re-forming, all of my progress lost - I'd pushed too hard, and gotten too greedy, and-

"Please... Please, I'm begging you."

As I choked out the words, voice wavering, your face slowly seemed to settle, like sediment perturbed off a river bed, floating back down to its resting place. As the moment wordlessly stretched, a more pensive look came across your face; a reflection in your eyes of a strange calmness.

"In that case..." you murmured, "I suppose... thank you for the meal, Itsuki."

You said the word as though you were tasting it, trying out its flavour. My name. Tentative, unsure - as though the scarcely breathed syllables would turn around and bite you, would hurt you once again.

Yet...

Elation burst through me, a white hot fire that began in my breast, and spread through my body, running down through every vein in my body, every capillary. Hearing you call me Itsuki again, hearing warmth in your voice again... I could feel elation rippling through everything that I was.

I... I...

"You're very welcome," I said, a grin slipping onto my face without my consent.

Damn this wine.

"Though also..." you said after a moment's hesitation, "it doesn't quite feel fair."

I froze. "W-What doesn't?"

"...Am I still just Uesugi-sensei?"

The question caught me completely off-guard. I'd spent so much time worrying about managing the distance between us - worrying about driving you away, or re-triggering the ice in your eyes. I'd wanted you to call me by my name again because I'd craved a reconnection. I'd craved a sense of friendship and intimacy that had long been lost to me.

Yet, even though you'd told me as much, I was still surprised every time you took a step on your own. Every time you made the conscious choice to close the gap between us. Every time you silently reminded me that you were so much more than the object of my gaze, the study of my searching eyes.

There are two people in every relationship.

I frowned, biting my lip.

"You're... you're right. Though... it feels wrong to call you Uesugi-kun at our age... plus, you are older than me..."

"That would feel a bit weird," you agreed, a quiet laugh in your voice.

"...Is it ok if I think about it?" I asked.

Your lips pulled tight at that... but then eventually you nodded silently, giving your assent.

It would wait.

Though, in my heart, I think I already knew what I wanted.

With that, we parted ways - you returning to the school with a quiet word of farewell to secure your motorcycle before calling for a ride, and I to the subway station. Descending the steps into the concrete depths felt surreal. I'd had a meal with you. We'd caught up - I'd managed to tell you about my sisters. I'd learned more about Raiha. I'd learned that you lived alone.

You'd called me by my name.

I was shaken out of my reverie by the train arriving, and stepped on-board. The trip was a blur; I was hardly drunk, but I was definitely a bit tipsy. It made something as mentally challenging as studying French difficult, and so I decided to hold off. Eventually, I'd managed to make it home, a journey of which I remembered essentially nothing.

Stepping into my apartment and clumsily taking off my shoes, I swayed over to my bed, and then flopped onto the soft, comforting surface. Surrounded by blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and warmth, I curled up in my nest - and I was surrendered over to emotion. I just... I just couldn't get the damned smile off my face. Every time my mind drifted back to your face, illuminated in the warm light of the restaurant, head rested on one arm so you could look over at me... my stomach would flip, and I would squirm.

It's like I'm a teenager again...

Yet, I wasn't a teenager - I understood myself far better now than I had when I was in high school. I recognized the feelings running through my chest, the feelings making my heart beneath my breast accelerate, the feelings making my stomach perform an admirable audition for the Cirque du Soleil. I knew them in their entirety.

It was hard to stop myself from raising my hopes.

You're getting ahead of yourself Itsuki. He may have decided to try and move past what happened... but that doesn't mean you deserve anything more.

Be grateful for what you've got.

That thought stopped me dead in my tracks, dumping a bucket of ice-water over my nascent aspirations. Pulling my legs up to my chest, I wrapped a blanket around myself... and then shook my head.

That's not... it's not true. It's not about deserving.

Throwing off the blanket, I rose to my feet, and opened my wardrobe. Pulling out my pyjamas, I changed out of my work clothes, and hung them up.

The concept of deserving something isn't even relevant.

I stopped at the edge of my table, and gripped the back of the chair, a surge of emotion coursing through me.

It's not about deserving. It's about what I want.

My knuckles turned white as I applied pressure, squeezing the wooden frame.

...And what he wants.

Sighing, I let go of the chair, and flopped back onto the bed.

Or... maybe, what he doesn't want.

I'd never wished harder to know what you thought of me.

"I want to see you again," I murmured, staring up at the ceiling. Reaching my hand up as I had in that dark Okinawan night, I examined my fingers in the light. Closing them slowly, I sighed, and rolled over.

It was a long evening, and an even longer night.

The next day, I arose to bleary eyes and even drearier skies. I had a persistent headache, which I suspected was far less attributable to the alcohol the previous evening, of which I'd had relatively little, and far more attributable to the anxious overthinking which has overtaken me as the night went on. Downing a glass of water, as well as an ibuprofen tablet, I slowly began getting ready for work.

The commute was the same as always - as the train rattled along its tracks, I tapped through my flashcards one by one.

Pourquoi l'amour est douloureux? Pourquoi il est nécessaire?

I'd improved somewhat in the previous few months.

Disembarking at my stop, I looked at the stairs ascending to the surface, and internally I cringed. It was going to be another full day of marking; another long day of tedium. I hoped I could get through it relatively quickly - I'd had an idea for a new experiment I could show my students a few days prior, and I couldn't start planning the details until after my grading obligations had finished.

I eventually reached the school. With the absence of the vast majority of the students, it felt empty; as I changed my footwear and walked through the halls, it was like a ghost town.

Back when I'd been in high school, there had been a few times that I'd been in the school building after hours or on weekends... and even now, that feeling of wrongness never quite went away, at least at first. As the days went by, it would slowly lessen, until eventually it would invert, and the converse would become the thing that felt odd - students returning, laughing, and filling the halls with the noise of youth.

Reaching the staff room, I could finally hear sound - there were clearly at least a few people already present. Sliding open the door, I stepped in to see about ten teachers at their various desks, most doing some variation of the activity I was about to subject myself to.

Communal torture...

There was a chorus of greeting as I walked in, which I promptly returned. At that moment, though, there was only one thought on my mind as I scanned the room.

You weren't there yet.

Sighing, I lowered my bag next to my desk, and then walked over to get my morning cup of coffee. Okinawan mug in hand, I inserted my coin, and received the machine's wares. Upon my return to the desk, I stretched, and then grabbed a pen. Bending my fingers experimentally, I pulled the giant pile of ungraded tests towards me... and began to work.

If I've told them once, I've told them a hundred times - units! U-N-I-T-S! If you don't write your units, I don't know if your answer is ten metres, or ten light years!

Irritated, I simply wrote 'units' in red pen, circled it, and took off a half-mark for each instance of the offense.

Geez... I should get one of those stamps off the internet... it would make this a lot easier.

At the height of my irritation, the door slid open, and you walked into the office to a chorus of tired greetings. Returning them with your usual disinterested professionalism, you went to your desk to drop off the carrier bag slung over your shoulder - but, noticing my gaze, you paused, and nodded at me. Popping over to get your own cup of coffee, you eventually meandered over to me.

"G'morning, Itsuki," you murmured, stifling a yawn.

I looked up at you wordlessly - I was unsure of what to think. There was a question in your eyes, as you took another step without me. Another movement to close the gap. Ever so slightly, the portcullis had risen. The drawbridge had begun to drop. Turning fully to face you, I could feel a smile slipping over my face, the previous night's elation rising from its cramped hiding place and worming its way back into my heart.

At some point in the long night, I'd decided.

Iknow what I want.

"Good morning, Fuutarou," I said softly, my hand wrapping about my coffee mug instinctually - it gave me something to hold, something solid to feel. A handle to grip.

I'm not a teenager - I... I shouldn't be getting these many butterflies in my stomach just from calling him by his name.

My eyes held yours, searching. Looking for clues as to your reaction - to try and divine how you felt about my choice for how to address you. It was difficult; your face was mostly impassive, only the subtlest of movements betraying your emotions. Yet, as your eyebrow lifted by the slightest of margins in response to my greeting, I thought I also saw the corner of your lips curl upwards into a hidden smile.

I... guess he's ok with it.

"Did you sleep well?" I continued, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Pretty well, yeah," you said, taking a sip from your coffee cup. "The delicious meal helped; plus, I was pretty tired, so I was out like a light only a couple hours after I got home. I guess I needed it."

Lucky you!

Across the room, I saw Kushijima glance up from her work, look back and forth between the two of us - and then give me a sly smile that you couldn't see, and a subtle thumbs up. I could feel my face heating up, so I wrenched my eyes away from her to look back up at you.

"That's nice," I said in what I hoped was a congenial tone. Indicating with the coffee cup, I added, "I had a pretty restless night myself. Guess I'll need this, huh?"

We continued chatting for a few more minutes, before eventually you departed to get to work. Turning back to the exams I had left to mark, my irritation had evaporated like small droplets of water cast onto a hot pan - sizzling away into nothingness in the face of the heat that was blooming in my chest. The grading, which had felt so tedious before, seemed to suddenly be easy, a simple routine action.

Eventually, lunch time came. Some small part of me hoped you would come over and join me to eat - but you sat with a few of the other teachers you'd come to know, and I sat with my own usual group. Separated, and yet I couldn't help stealing the occasional glance at you. Even with your being on the other side of the room, my heart was pounding.

What the heck is wrong with me? I mean, I know what this is, but... seriously?!

I groaned, and lowered my head into my hands.

I don't want this. I just want to be friends again.

"Nakano-sensei?"

"It's nothing."

It's not nothing.

After both an eternity and an instant, we returned to marking, the sounds of eating replaced with the sounds of pens scratching on paper. My initial burst of enthusiasm hadn't carried over the lunch break, and I found myself bored to absolute tears. It was an effort to force myself to grade, and to grade, and to grade. Eventually, I had managed to brute-force myself a quarter of the way through the entire set of exams - after two days of marking.

We kept working, and working. An ensemble, collectively grinding away towards a distant goal. Supposedly unified in action. Yet, I found myself continually stealing glances at you - and one time, I was caught, my eyes met yours as I peeked over. Embarrassed, I looked away, my face growing red.

Stop it.

It felt like an endless cycle - I would work, and work, and then steal a glance. Each snatched look at your face, each breathless moment of your tired, focused eyes... it sustained me, as much as I wished it wouldn't.

Stop it!

The entire next week was like that - stolen glances between work, my eyes probing the side of your face, your focus, your motivated grimace. In the small, precious moments when we weren't marking, we made small talk, the sort that has no real meaning, but serves to maintain a baseline of interaction. Connection. Yet, as the week progressed, I could feel myself growing more and more frustrated; I wanted more.

Eventually, the day came; completion. Once I'd finally finished all of my marking, the last grade recorded and saved, and the last exam put into the appropriate folder, I could feel the tension finally beginning to leave my body - stress flowing out, leaving my shoulders to sag. Finally, I was free. Finally, I could climb the silver thread that would lift me out of hell.

I'm exhausted...

Standing from my chair, my joints aching from stiffness at a lack of movement, I decided to go for a celebratory coffee from the machine. A reward for all of my hard work. Yet, as the golden ichor flowed into my cup, I felt my eyes drawn away. Glancing back over at you, I saw that you still had about fifteen exams to mark.

Making a snap decision, I quietly padded over to you, leaving my mug to steam to the side of the machine.

"Fuutarou," I leaned down and whispered in your ear - the word still felt electric on my tongue, even after a week. "You've got this. Do you want a coffee?"

You had jumped slightly at my sudden words, before glancing tiredly up at me. Your golden eyes were dimmed, exhaustion taking over... but after a long, hesitating moment, you nodded.

"Thanks. Uh... a macchiato, if that's ok."

Nodding, I returned to the machine, and put in the cash for a macchiato. Watching the coffee and milk foam descend in sequential streams... I could feel a smile slipping back onto my face, unbidden.

It felt good to do something for you, even if it was only a small thing in the grand scheme of things.

Once it was completely filled, I put on a lid and a sleeve, and brought it back over to you. Wrapping your hands around it, you shivered despite the summer heat... and then thanked me quietly. Taking a sip, you returned to your marking, and I went to sit back down at my desk after retrieving my own drink. As I lowered myself into my chair, my eyes caught Kushijima's on the other side of the room - and she smirked at me. I felt my face heat up, and I quickly turned to look away.

Am I completely incapable of not getting caught...?

With the marking down, we soon transitioned over to lesson planning, as well as meetings about implementation of the curriculum. It was a bit of a whirlwind, bureaucracy piled onto bureaucracy onto bureaucracy. Despite the fact the students weren't present, I was as busy as ever.

Eventually, we approached the one week we got off for the summer break, the dog days of July having long since given way to the heat of August.

On the final Friday before we went on break, I was finishing my work late into the afternoon, trying to wrap up the final dregs before taking the week off. As I closed my laptop with a sigh, I suddenly felt someone standing over my shoulder.

Glancing back, I saw that you were hovering awkwardly behind me, about a metre back.

Confused, I raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

"Are you finished for the day, Itsuki?" you asked quietly, your voice not carrying far, barely audible - yet nonetheless electrifying. I shivered at the sound of you saying my name.

"...Yes?" I said, trying desperately to keep any hint of expectation out of my voice.

You shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, clearly mulling over your words. I simply waited patiently, knowing that they would come; eventually, inevitably, they would come.

Taking in a breath, you paused, and then squared your shoulders.

"Since it's the last day before the break... would you like to possibly go to an izakaya? To... to celebrate a job well done."

Another step.

I could feel a swelling sense of joy in my chest, an emotion I desperately tried to stifle, if only so it wouldn't blossom into full view on my face. As I thought over my plans, and realized I didn't have anything in particular planned for the night, I looked up at you and silently nodded my assent. Turning away, I began packing away my things - and the euphoria broke through, completely overcoming any semblance of my will.

A massive grin was spreading over my face. It was all I could do to force it into a respectable smile as I turned back.

"Shall we?" you asked, returning from your desk, carrier bag over your arm.

The corners of my lips were definitely twitching.

I nodded silently, and we both left the staff office - and the school.

"Did you have anywhere in particular you wanted to go?" I asked you as we walked out the front door, glancing up at the still-bright blue sky.

"No- I'm still not entirely sure what's in the area. I figured if there was somewhere amazing around here, you'd already know what it was, so... if it's alright, I'll leave us both in your care."

I shot you a sharp glance. "I'm... not sure how to take that."

"Ah- it was meant as a compliment. Sorry. You were a famous food reviewer, after all."

"Am," I said, a smirk crossing my face. "I am a famous food reviewer."

"Oh? The mysterious 'May' is still active?"

"As of a couple weeks ago," I shrugged. "Fine, I'll take it positively. As it happens, there is a pretty decent Izakaya around here; though, not as good as the one after Okinawa."

"Lead the way then," you said, a strangely amused note in your voice.

Well, I'd rather amuse him than irritate him...

I led the way to an Izakaya about five minutes away by foot, you following a half-step behind me. As we stepped in and were greeted, the conversation stalled slightly; an awkwardness in the air, a feeling of uncertainty. I was unsure of how, exactly, to proceed. How to close the gap. As we were shown to a small table, I wondered to myself how to draw you back into conversation.

You, however, had no plans to wait on me.

"I have to say," you sighed, leaning on one elbow on the table. "I didn't expect summer break to be this much work on the other side of things. It really makes me miss being a student."

"Right? It's ridiculous."

"Ah well," you said, shaking your head. "This is what we signed up for. No use having regrets now."

I nodded silently; then, the server arrived, and we both ordered beers and appetizers to share. As he poured us water and then departed, I studied your face, drinking in all the small details that constituted your expression.

The exhaustion was clearly still there - you hadn't been resting properly since Okinawa, it was blatantly obvious. I wondered how much good a week off could do; and also, whether you would actually rest. Whether you would allow yourself the space and the time to recuperate, to recover from the hardships of life as a new teacher.

"So, Fuutarou," I said. "What are you planning to do for your week off?"

You paused mid-sip, a slight tremor running up your spine as I spoke, an observation that made my heart skip a beat. After a moment, you put down the glass, a pensive look crossing your face as you clearly tried to recall just what it was that you had planned. Then, frowning, you shrugged.

"Not much in the first half - though, in the second half, Raiha and I will be travelling to go see our grandparents."

I frowned. "Your grandparents?"

I couldn't recall ever hearing anything about them back when we'd been in high school. As the frown that had crossed your face turned into a full-on scowl, I suddenly had a sense as to why.

"On my mom's side. They reached out a few months ago," you muttered, tapping the glass with your finger in irritation. "Way after... well, you know. Said they wanted to reconnect, that they felt guilty for not being in our lives up to this point."

"I... see," I said. There was a dropping feeling in my stomach - seeing the disdain and barely-disguised disgust on your face, it was apparent how you felt about them.

Yet, as sudden flaring anger appeared in your eyes, flame and fury suddenly enveloping what had once been ice and frost, there was a part of me that wondered quietly to myself if there had ever been a time when you'd made that face about me.

If that disdain and disgust had ever been aimed at me. At my sisters.

Deep in my chest, I had a feeling that it had.

I... don't want that to ever happen again.

"I didn't want to go," you muttered, "or have anything to do with them. But... Raiha wanted to, and I wasn't about to send her off on her own to them, even if she is an adult now. So... I put it off as long as I could. We're going to just go for two or three days, then come right back."

"Where do they live?" I asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice. "It must be quite far, if they weren't involved at all before now..."

If possible, your scowl deepened. "Kawagoe. They have no excuse. It's a half-hour's drive from Tokai."

At that moment, our drinks arrived - and you immediately took a sip. I could tell that the mention of your maternal grandparents had upset you, the mood suddenly turned foul. Staring into my own drink, I cast my mind about to see if there was another topic I could bring up that could distract you, and bring you back to more pleasant pastures.

I didn't want things to stay on the topic of anger, and people who had let you down.

People who had been absent from your life.

Something... anything else. Let's... let's find a different thing to talk about, and-

"Eh, enough about them," you said, waving your hand dismissively. "Thinking about them is ruining this drink. So, what about you - do you have any plans?"

I... guess that works.

I nodded, taking a long draught of the beer. "I'm mostly just staying home and relaxing, but I do have plans to go up to Tokyo for a few days. Ichika is back in the country for a week for work, and so Nino, Miku, and I are going to take the train up to meet her and Yotsuba."

You nodded - and I scanned your face, almost subconsciously looking for any sign of anger, or longing. Yet, at first glance, nothing. It was just polite interest.

Is that really all there is?

Frowning, I looked you over again, trying to figure out what you were feeling. Whether your heart was as serene as you were making it seem. But... you weren't looking at me. Your eyes were cast down, avoiding my interrogative gaze.

"That sounds nice," you said, taking a bite from an appetizer laid out in front of you. "A nice family get together."

...I don't know.

"Y-Yes," I said, my own gaze drawn down to the food that had been brought to us. "At least, I hope so. Unfortunately, our father can't make it - he's going to a medical conference in Geneva next week, a trip which has been planned for months. He's quite upset about it, honestly."

You raised an eyebrow. "It's hard to imagine your dad being upset about... most things, honestly. I'm pretty sure he has ice water for blood."

I winced. "That's... mostly true, but you learn to tell."

"I see..." you said, a doubtful note entering your voice.

"Anyways," I said, clearing my throat, "I'm looking forward to the trip - I haven't been up to Tokyo in a while, so it'll be nice."

Small talk begot small talk, meandering through small aspects of our lives, and of our plans. Pauses, gaps, broken connections. Yet, each time, we found a way to re-connect. Found a way to speak, to bridge the gap between us.

If only for a moment.

Eventually, you looked at your phone, and a frown crossed your face.

"I should probably go home..." you murmured. "It's getting pretty late."

"Mhmm," I agreed quietly, my gaze fixed on your slightly-reddened face. "I... guess that's true."

Yet, the idea of the evening ending, of you getting up and going home... it made my stomach drop. There was a desperate part of my heart, possibly fueled by the drink, which didn't want you to leave. A part of me that didn't want to be alone - that wanted to delay the moment that I would return to that lonely apartment for as long as possible.

It was embarrassing, but it was there.

As the waiter came and gave us the bill, I was fidgeting in place, unsure of what to do, unsure of my next step; unsure of what I could say to get you to stay, if only for a moment.

This is stupid. You're not a child.

Yet, I couldn't stop my eyes running over all of you as you called for a ride, desperate to take in as much of you as I could, while the opportunity lasted. I didn't want you to go. I wanted you to stay with me.

It made me feel pathetic.

You're a grown woman, Itsuki. Pull yourself together.

Getting up, we both walked out of the izakaya after settling the bill, and waited outside, the sun fully set this time - a more appropriate mood. As you glanced at your phone, I could feel the urge to say something growing; to not stay silent, and let you walk away.

To keep you by my side.

"Fuutarou," I said, grabbing your attention.

"Mmm?" you asked with only a sound, glancing over at me.

"Um... would you like to possibly go see a movie with me during the break? Or... or something like that."

Your eyes widened, and your already-red cheeks reddened ever so slightly more. Your hand, seemingly unconsciously, rose to your head, playing with your bangs - a habit that I'd completely forgotten you had. As you glanced to the side, away from me, I could see that you were flustered, caught completely off-guard by my question.

"Um... sorry, Itsuki, do you mean... like a date?"

My eyes widened in turn. Ah...

Shit.

"Oh- Oh, no! No, s-sorry, that's not how I meant it!" I stammered, my own cheeks heating up.

As much as I would love that...

"You're welcome to bring Raiha-chan along if you'd like!" I continued, deciding to simply bulldoze my way past my embarrassment. "It could be fun. Sorry, I- I meant as friends."

As friends...

I could see the tension in your shoulders minutely relax - but the look on your face was difficult to read. I was certain it was just my projecting my own desires onto you, but the neutral look you were wearing seemed almost like a mask, with a second layer underneath.

Disappointment.

I must be imagining things.

"Ah, I... I see," you said, letting out an awkward laugh. "In that case, sure- that could be fun. I'll ask Raiha."

"Sounds good," I smiled.

"Oh, if we're going to do that, we should probably be able to communicate," you murmured, pulling out your phone from where you'd stowed it in your pocket. "Um... is your number still the same as it used to be?"

"No, it's changed," I said, shaking my head. "Here, I'll give you my Line."

We traded contact information, and after sending each other a message to confirm the details were right, promised to sort out the details at a later date. It was almost the weekend, after all; we had time. Eventually, a taxi showed up to take you home; a few minutes later, my own ride showed up. I'd felt too inebriated to take the subway safely.

Once I was home, I closed the door, and immediately ran and leapt onto my bed. Looking at my phone, I saw the small message from you - "yo." - and practically squealed to myself.

Holding the phone close to my breast, I breathed in... and then the exuberant grin which I'd been trying desperately to suppress all evening broke out across my face, spreading from ear to ear, an unstoppable force of water finally bursting its dam.

I got it. I got it!

We ended up deciding on the following Monday evening for the movie, followed by dinner. Accordingly, my weekend was filled to the brim with anticipation - desperately trying to make plans, trying to figure out the best movie to watch, trying to decide what to wear. Fantasizing about what was to come.

About seeing you.

We had arranged to meet at a mall near the theatre about half an hour before the movie started. I ended up deciding to go with an understated look. I hadn't wanted to go all out after claiming it wasn't a date, but... I also hadn't wanted to look like a gremlin.

Not in front of you.

So, I'd taken the middle road.

Walking up to a small clock tower, I saw you standing there by yourself. Frowning, I approached, and you raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey," I said, returning the gesture. "Were you waiting long? Where's Raiha?"

"Nah, I just got here," you said as you shook your head, causing me to raise my eyebrows slightly at the classic date line. "Raiha ended up bailing, she said something about being too tired from working late. So, you'll have just me for today. Hope you're not too disappointed."

How could I possibly be disappointed by that?!

Tracing over your semi-casual apparel, I noticed a quiet tension; your hands were, ever so slightly, trembling. Your eyes, settled on me, belied the casual tone you'd set out. For once, it was obvious what you were feeling.

It was obvious that you were on edge.

Not that I'm one to talk.

My stomach was filled with butterflies, an entire ecosystem wrought within me. My heart, suddenly pounding away in my chest, felt constricted, an adrenaline shot running through my veins.

I had you all to myself.

We walked to the movie theatre, only a short distance away. Once inside, we each bought tickets for the movie I'd wanted to see - a newly released rom-com, a discovery to which you'd simply raised your eyebrows, before accepting with no argument. As we walked into the theatre, popcorn and drinks in hand, I could sense a subtle tension in your shoulders; your nerves still hadn't settled.

Hopefully being here with me isn't too much for him...

Of course, this movie had a secret; one that I suspected you hadn't noticed, given I'd purposely shepherded you into the auditorium without letting you look too closely at the movie posters.

As the film began to roll, I kept glancing over to look at you - at first, there was a slightly bored look on your face, a clearly feigned sense of interest put on only to be polite. Yet, it wasn't long for life - it slowly began to dissolve away as the movie moved past the opening sequence. Within about five minutes, you were quietly chuckling to yourself, the rom-com living up to the "com" part of the name. Even in the darkness of the theatre, I could see your shoulders relaxing.

Good. He's enjoying himself.

The best was yet to come, though.

The secret.

When the main male love interest's wicked fiancée was introduced, I heard an audible gasp of shock from the seat next to me - as Ichika, in full dress and chic regalia, prowled onto the screen, a wicked look on her face. I laughed quietly at your reaction, catching your eye as you whipped around to face me.

"Did you know?" you whispered, eyes wide.

"Of course," I murmured back, my breast rapidly filling with a feeling of unparalleled smugness. Wordlessly shaking your head, you turned back to the screen. Quietly, I laughed to myself as I turned back to the film.

Ichika made a fantastic villainess, serving as a perfect foil for the heroine. It was immaculate acting - and I could tell that you were enthralled. As the end of the story rolled around, there was a dramatic moment, one of the rare few in the film that wasn't broken by a joke, where Ichika was monologuing at a helplessly crying heroine; and then a gun went off from somewhere off-screen, and she dropped dead.

The story wrapped up with the heroine and main male lead getting together, but the movie was a bit flat after Ichika's dramatic death. As the lights turned up and we filed out of the auditorium, you were shaking your head in amazement, a movement which filled me with quiet pride.

Good job, Ichika.

"That was excellent," you said. "Thanks for suggesting it."

I smiled. "I could tell you were hesitant - but I wanted to surprise you with Ichika being in a starring role, so I couldn't use that to convince you. Luckily, it was just a great movie."

"Had you seen it before?"

I shook my head as we walked out of the building, walking through automatic glass doors that slid open in our path. "No, but Ichika said it was one of her better roles, and I trust her judgement - she's honest when a movie she's in stinks. Besides, it got rave reviews."

We walked over to a restaurant that was in the mall, a pizza place. Sitting at the table and ordering our food, we continued to debrief over the movie - which was why I'd wanted to get food after watching. Even though it definitely wasn't a date... a movie and a meal was still one of the ultimate date plans.

Thank you, internet.

"Poor Ichika, though," you said, sighing. "She's still dying in every role she gets."

"Yep," I nodded in agreement. "Truly a Sean Bean of our times."

"Who?"

"He's... actually, nevermind."

"Still... I'm glad she's doing so well," you said quietly as our food arrived. "I haven't seen her since... well..."

I nodded quietly.

The mood seemed to suddenly deflate with that observation, and you poked listlessly at your food. I frowned, a pang in my heart - this wasn't how I'd wanted things to go. I'd wanted to pick something that we could bond over, and talk over.

Not something that would remind you of all the reasons you'd hated me.

What a blunder...

"That day... was probably the hardest day of my whole life," you said quietly. "It- ah, sorry, that's a downer. We don't need to... I..."

"It's ok," I murmured. "I'd rather you talk about it, then just change the subject and bottle it up. Doing that, swallowing it down... it doesn't help. It just leads to quiet suffering."

You paused for a long moment, looking at me - your eyes locked with mine, interrogating, questioning. A golden glow, searching through me, leaving me with nothing to hide. I wondered quietly what answers you were looking for in my eyes; or, if you found what you were looking for. Regardless, eventually, you nodded.

"It was one of the hardest days of my whole life," you repeated. "Even apart from the choice I knew I was going to have to make... everything else happened, and..."

I could feel my chest clench, both in sympathy... and in fear. Fear of what you would say. Fear of hearing from your mouth once again just how much I'd hurt you.

How much we'd hurt you.

"I can imagine," I said softly. "Honestly, in comparison to what happened, something as trivial as choosing one of us to date just kind of... pales."

You shook your head. "No. Your feelings were important to me... even if I ended up having to make another choice. I was completely devastated that I had to leave you all like that."

I nodded silently.

Yet, there was something; a feeling, in the depths of the pond of my memories. Something half-buried in the silt, long drowned in the treacherously calm waters. An emotion. A question, unresolved, which had been nagging me for a decade. The question, the demand for an answer to which had grown from mild unresolved irritation over the years to suddenly becoming a desperate need over recent months.

I wanted to know.

I needed to know.

But... I was scared to ask.

Breathing in, I closed my eyes, centring myself.

Coward.

Opening my eyes again, I could see that you were looking at me with an odd look.

"Fuutarou, I've wondered this for a long time..." I said softly.

You tilted your head gently at me, inquisitiveness springing forth in your eyes.

"Who were you going to pick?"

You froze.

The words were out. Uttered, I couldn't take them back. I couldn't pretend I didn't want to know. I couldn't feign disinterest, couldn't stop the rapid slamming shut of the distance between us. The look on your face was a strained one; an unresolved pain, stretched out paper-thin over a decade. Looking away from me, you bit your lip.

"...Are you sure it's something you want to hear?" you asked softly.

Silently, I nodded.

"Yotsuba."

We were both silent, you still looking away from me, the weight of what you'd just said hanging between us. I looked at your face, visible in side-view, my stomach writhing. It had been what I'd expected... but that didn't mean it hurt any less. It didn't mean that my chest didn't ache to know definitively that I hadn't been the one.

I would not have been chosen.

I would have been left behind.

Yet, from the look on your face, I could tell there was more to the story. More than just the love you'd had for my sister a decade before.

"Do you... regret not making a choice?" I asked, trying to hide the pain from appearing in my voice.

I couldn't let you see something so selfish.

I wouldn't let you see.

You turned back to look at me, a complicated look on your face; furrowed brow, drawn lips, softened eyes.

"I used to," you murmured. "In the weeks and months afterwards, it hurt so much I could barely stand it. But... months turned into years without her, and it lessened. I moved on with my life."

Shrugging, you took a slice of pizza, and examined it for a moment before taking a bite.

"After all," you said after swallowing. "It's been a decade, right? It's not like I've been sitting here single and pining for ten years. I've moved on; I've dated, I've had a love life. I'm... still sad about how things turned out, and hurt about how things fell apart. But... I don't know. It's more of a dull ache now. I don't regret choosing supporting Raiha over romance, at least not anymore."

I nodded sombrely, eyes interlocked with yours. I'd expected as much - but it felt different hearing it directly from your mouth.

"It's the same for me," I said quietly. "After what happened, I moved on with my life. I graduated and went to university. I experienced love, I experienced loss. I've not been sitting still either."

You nodded thoughtfully at that, before grabbing another slice of pizza.

Well... might as well go for it.

"So," I said, trying to sound as casual as I possibly could. "Are you single now?"

Your face immediately erupted, and you immediately began coughing. Chugging the glass of water I hurriedly offered you, you looked up at me. Your cheeks reddened even further; glancing away to the side, your hand rose to your bangs, pulling on them - a coping mechanism. I could see a look of panic on your face, mixed with wariness... and something else. Something I couldn't quite make out.

My delusions whispered that it was hope.

You're just projecting, Itsuki.

Because... because that would mean something preposterous.

"...Why do you ask?" you said, a guarded tone in your voice, your eyes still not meeting mine.

"Curiosity." I said. "That's all."

Liar.

There was a moment of silence. You looked skeptical, but you also didn't seem upset by the question, per se. More... flustered. Eventually, you turned back to look at me, your eyes impenetrable. Then, you sighed, and shrugged, cheeks still a bright red.

"For the last couple years or so, yeah. It wasn't the worst breakup I've had, but it took a while to get over."

My eyes subtly widened.

He's single.

Don't get ahead of yourself, Itsuki. It... it doesn't...

I nodded, trying to put on a casual affect. "I see."

"How about you?" you asked, leaning on one arm and looking at me, your eyes narrowed. I squirmed under your gaze, and an expression that almost looked like a smirk appeared on your face.

Is... is this payback?!

"Uh..." I said, glancing away, my cheeks heating up at the return fire. "I... haven't really dated anyone since before I got this job. Well, there was something quick a couple years ago, but... it didn't last very long."

We both sat in silence again for a moment as you also processed this information.

"I see," you said, imitating my faux-casual tone to near perfection - mirror images of one another.

Our eyes were locked, neither of us willing to admit our inner thoughts about the information that had just been shared between us. The silence stretched, a pregnant pause, loaded with meaning and tension - or at least, I thought it was. You were so damned difficult to read; even when the mask slipped, it never slipped all the way.

Suddenly, your phone loudly went off, making us both jump. Pulling it out, you apologized, and then picked up with a frown.

"Raiha, what is it? I'm a bit busy at the mome- yes, I'm still with Itsuki. Yes, that counts as being busy, you smarta- ugh, seriously? You're- ah, crap. Fine. Yes, that's fine. Fine. I'll be over in a bit, calm down."

Hanging up, you sighed, and scratched your head awkwardly.

"Sorry, Itsuki, I've got to go. My sister has a water main busted in her apartment and is freaking out. She's going to spend the night at my place - we're leaving for our grandparents' in a couple days, so it's pretty terrible timing."

"That's fine," I said, sighing. "Tell Raiha-chan I said hello."

Just when we were getting to the good part...

"Will do," you nodded. We got the bill, and then walked out of the restaurant together. I accompanied you towards the parkade where you'd left your motorbike, and as we walked, you seemed grumpier than you had been moments before, though you managed to mostly keep it to yourself.

"I'm definitely not looking forward to this trip," you grumbled as we reached the bike. "Especially if we need to deal with apartment repairs while we're at it."

"Maybe this is a good excuse to cancel?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

An emotion which was definitely hope crossed your face, but then you sighed, and it vanished.

"No, I can't get away with that," you mumbled. "Raiha would be upset."

"Too bad," I said, shaking my head. "Well, do your best."

"Thanks," you replied. Then, glancing down at the bike, a sheepish look crossed your face. "Um... I'd offer you a ride home... but, I only have the one helmet."

"That's ok," I laughed awkwardly. "Motorcycles kind of scare me, to be honest. It'd take some getting used to."

Plus... the idea of riding pressed up against you is a bit...

"Well... maybe I can give you a ride sometime when I'm not in a hurry," you murmured. "That'll get you used to it."

"Maybe," I smiled. "I'll try not to scream."

You laughed at that. Then, mounting the bike and putting on your helmet, you glanced over at me.

"This was a lot of fun," you grinned. "Let's... let's do this again sometime."

"Sure," I said, raising a hand in farewell- my chest was suddenly filled with a burst of excitement, my heart suddenly racing in my chest. As the engine revved and you drove away, I was left standing there, a stupid grin spreading across my face; unstoppable, dominating. I was powerless in the face of its advance. Grabbing my red-hot cheeks, I turned away, eyes widening.

He wants to do this again.

I'd thought I was calm. I'd thought I was cool and collected, and could handle it.

But my heart, beating wildly out of my chest, told the truth.

He... he wants to see me again!

I was absolutely, unquestionably, head over heels in love with you.

And I was a complete mess.